A Family Matter
by Winchester26
Summary: Sherlock's sister arrives suddenly in need of a place to stay. Unavoidably, she becomes involved in their latest case. In the midst of their dangerous operation- jealousy & romance will endanger everything that the great detective has built for himself and those around him.
1. Introduction

"She merely needs a place of residence for a short while," Sherlock said as the carriage driver dropped a trunk at the bottom of the steps.

Watson watched outside the window as Sherlock's sister stepped from the buggy. "How come I've never met this sister of yours before?" he looked back to his partner.

"She's a bit of a free spirit, my sister," Sherlock replied, looking back at Watson, "I rarely see her myself," he explained.

Watson nodded. He wasn't sure how Mary, the woman he'd just begun to court, would feel about a single, "free-spirit", moving into his home. But, he could consider the Holmes girl family- his partner & friend's baby sister.

Their attention turned to the front door when a knock sounded. "It's open, Lizzy!"

The door opened and Elizabeth Holmes entered the house. Named after her mother, the girl gave a resemblance to Sherlock, but she was younger and

"Beautiful…" Watson muttered quietly. The moment he realized he said it out loud, he coughed. Lizzy did not seem to hear him. However, Holmes' ears twitched and he threw a look to his partner before continuing to his sister, "My dear baby sister! How long's it been? Or should I ask, how many men has it been since I've last seen you?"

"Sherlock…" Lizzy said warningly as the siblings embraced, "Not in front of Watson," Lizzy turned her attention to the other man in the room. She smiled warmly, "Sherlock's written to me, and you always seem to take up a heavy portion of his letters," she stepped forward.

"Yes, yes, and Holmes has told me all about you," Watson held out his hand. They greeted each other, and there was a pause. Sherlock looked from both of them. No. This was not going to happen, "Well, to your room, then, Lizzy? Up the stairs, second door on the right," he said ushering her that way, "I trust you can get her trunk there, Watson?" he glanced back.

He followed his sister up the stairs and Watson nodded, "Yes, yes of course," he agreed. "I'll bring it right up!" he called after them. He set his cane up against the window and headed out the door again. However, when he got to the foot of the stairs, the immensity of the trunk truly came into perspective. He sighed.

Upstairs, Sherlock watched his sister examine the room, "You should find everything you need here. Our landlady, Nanny, should take a liking to you," he meandered back towards the door, "And you can't have him…" he said.

Lizzy looked at her brother incredulously, "What?" she asked. Though, she had not the talent like her brother, she was a sharp girl. "I've just met Watson…and from what you've told me, he has a woman to himself… I believe you even described her as a 'deceiving leech' who was 'bent to destroy your means of life'?" she smirked.

The door to the room swung open again as Watson, panting, pushed the trunk through the door and into the room. He took a breath, stood up to his full height and leaned against the trunk with his hand, "That's rather odd," he said when he found his breathing pattern once more, "Holmes, you've never used the term 'leech' before…that's a new one…" he then left the room.

Lizzy frowned and then hit her brother's arm, "You insult his woman to his face?" she asked in a hiss.

"I've never been one to hide my feelings, Lizzy, you know that," he said, though he did look a little remorseful.

"And you think it's the 'deceiving leech' that's pushing him right out the door…" she said underhandedly. She followed Watson out the door to thank him for bringing her trunk in and apologizing for spilling the beans on Sherlock. She had no right to be the one to tell Watson what Holmes had said about Mary.

Sherlock sighed, "I open my home and yet, I'm the one left alone…hmph…"


	2. Breakfast

"And where, may I ask, is my beloved brother?" Lizzy inquired with a sarcastic undertone. She took a seat at the small breakfast table and joined the good doctor for some eggs. However, Sherlock was absent.

"He's working," Watson replied, patting his mouth with a napkin, very fastidiously.

Lizzy laughed, "And yet you're the one with a professional career, doctor…" she shook out her napkin and placed it into her lap. "So tell me, John…" she began, "how is it you're still around?"

"Beg your pardon?" John smiled, "I'm not sure I quite understand what you mean …" he said, his fingers pausing over his fork.

"Dear _Sherlock,_" she said, "God knows I couldn't handle living with him and he's my _family. _And yet, you live and work with him….does it have you pining for the Afghan War?"

John chuckled and filled his fork with egg and toast. "Sometimes…" he admitted with a smile, "But Holmes is a very…" he paused, and there did not seem to be a word to describe Sherlock Holmes, "He's my partner…" he said, "We went into business together…I wouldn't have done that lightly," he assured her, taking the bite of breakfast he'd prepared.

"Are you on a case at the moment?" Lizzy questioned, her brows raising in interest.

"Ah, now that is what he is working on…" John replied, "I've done everything but lock him in that room. He needs his work…" he explained. "Especially after…well…it's what he does…" Watson quickly finished and stuffed a bite of toast into his mouth.

Lizzy nodded, though she knew full well what Watson had meant to say. But her attention turned to the presence that entered the room. "Ah, glad I have you both here at the same time..." Sherlock entered the room, buttoning his sleeve. That's when Clarky followed him into the room, carrying his helmet.

"Clarky," Watson greeted. He set his napkin down and stood up, leaning on his cane.

"Doctor," Clarky nodded his head. "Ms. Holmes," he greeted second, obviously informed by Sherlock. Lizzy nodded back, "There's a slight…problem…" Clarky began nervously.

"Though, to my disbelief," Sherlock started, "LeStrade couldn't have possibly prevented what Clarky has informed me is our current situation…" he took a seat and propped his feet up on the table, "As you were, Clarky, tell my colleague what you've told me…"


	3. Elementary

Sherlock and John had insisted that she stay behind for the preliminary investigation that Clarky took them on, against her adamant protests. As John explained, it was not that they did not think she could handle herself- but they did not know anything about the current situation and could barely have a plan for themselves.

Finally, Lizzy had given in. She stayed back at 221 B. Baker Street and unpacked her things. She got to talking to Mrs. Hudson for a while. Mrs. Hudson shared all kinds of words about her brother that made Lizzy laugh. It was nice to know that not much had changed.

Finally, after pacing, unpacking, straightening, straightening again, snacking, and one last straightening, the boys had returned to the residence. She skipped down the stairs to greet them at the door. "What's the word?" she asked apprehensively.

"Dismal at best," John replied, although his face held a pleasant smile. Sherlock moved forward, "Yes. Though Blackwood has been defeated, it seems as though another threat has arisen," he removed his hat. "One Moriarty…Professor Moriarty…" he trailed off. Both the doctor and Lizzy knew the gears were turning in his head. Although, the gears in his head were definitely of a different caliber than any other human either of his companions had ever met. The must turn the other way…

Sherlock looked at Lizzy pointedly. Both John and Lizzy looked back at him, unsure of what the gears had come up with.

"You always wanted to continue your education, did you not?" he asked with a small, Sherlock smile.

Lizzy raised a brow, "First, you would not allow me to come along to your investigation…now I must go on myself to become a student?"

"Yes, I believe that's all," Sherlock said, as if it weren't a big deal.

Lizzy crossed her arms nonchalantly over her chest, "I supposed I could use a little more of a formal education…" she sighed, shaking her head, "But it's over half way through a semester…what is my reason for joining this late, my dear brother?"

The last part was added with a touch of classy sarcasm.


	4. Relative

"Family business," Lizzy finished. "My father was no longer happy in Glasgow so he moved us here to London, luckily, the college let me transfer."

Professor Moriarty smiled vaguely as he passed a paper on to her, "I see. What was your last name? Does not seem to be on my roster..."

Lizzy paused; the look in his eye told her that he knew moer than he was letting on. She knew the look well... she got it from Sherly all the time. Catching her wits, Lizzy finished, "Watson. Lizzy Watson..." she grasped her books tight in her arms and shifted her weight to signal her leaving.

Moriarty nodded with a gap-toothed grin, "And what, may I ask, is the family business you're in?"

"Dentistry."

**221 b Baker**

"Denistry?" Sherlock chuckled, "You're ashamed of me..."

Lizzy chuckled, "Well of course I am...but that's not the reason I lied. I felt like he could see right through me...I'm not sure how long I can remain a plant...I think he's already onto us..."

"And what's even more interesting than your deplorable talent for acting is your instinct to give him the doctor's last name in place of an entirely false one."

Lizzy looked from Watson (who had peeked out from over his newspaper) back to Sherlock, "It was the first name that came to mind. If I had spent anymore time than that thinking about it I would have looked even more suspicous than I already had..."

Sherlock obviously wanted to say more but he remained satisfied with her answer. "You'll need to return to class tomorrow but then after that you should be free to remain out of school...even if it were to do you some good..." he finished off-handedly before he left the room with something obviously on his mind.

Lizzy blushed, glaring at her brother as he left the room. How dare he accuse her of being unintelligent with other people in the room.

But Watson, the gentleman that he was, waiting a few seconds more behind his newspaper- feigning interest in the article on the page as if he hadn't heard a thing. Finally, he dropped the newspaper to his lap, "He's only upset because, for once, somebody did not want to be him..." Watson smiled. He stood up from the arm chair and set his newspaper aside. Gladston rolled over on his sighed and gave a snore for being disturbed but proceeded right back to sleep.

Lizzy nodded, "But I'll give it to him...growing up my brother's tended to outshine me, especially Sherlock..."

Watson smiled warmled, "You're time will come," he touched her shoulder affectionately before he limped from the room in search of Sherlock.

Lizzy sighed.


	5. Instincts

Lizzy must have sat on every piece of furniture in the house and opened nearly every book. Sherlock had gone out to dinner with the doctor and the woman he was courting. She had been offered an invitation but she felt too intrusive. However, the dinner should've ended hours ago and yet no one was home (save for Gladston).

She inquired to Mrs. Hudson as to where Sherlock might be and she could only tell her that occasionally the man would disappear for days at a time. Normally to think.

To which she responded: 'isn't that all he does?' But to no avail did she know where he was. She did not know London well enough to go wandering on her own.

Finally, after what must have been an enternity, the front door clicked open and Watson entered.

"Where's my brother?" Lizzy inquired, finding Sherlock not to be with him.

Watson gave a small smile, "After the impression that he made with Mary I am to assume he is above the Fish Bowl...should probably go to check on him."

Lizzy nodded. "This house is rather quiet without him." she explained.

Watson nodded, "Of course." he took off his coat and hat, placing them on the coat rack. Motioning with his cane to the kitchen, "Can I interest you in some tea?"

Lizzy smiled, "Only if it comes with coffee..."

Watson laughed, "We'll see what we can do. Mrs. Hudson?"

**The Kitchen (sometime later)**

"On Monday I am to return to class. Professor Moriarty gave us this assignment...It's an essay."

Watson set his tea down, "Since you'll only be returning to class once more, you should not have to actually complete the assignment..."

"I believe the professor is already suspicous enough...if I turn in a paper first thing, hopefully it will throw him enough...until I do not return to class again." she laughed.

Watson nodded, "Of course. And what is this essay on?"

"Since he's a maths professor, I think it's odd that he's assigned an essay. But he said that the logic we should gain from the assignment will help with the next step in the process." Lizzy explained, "It's about the relation of the brain to other important function of our body and if our brain controls some of our baser instincts."

"And what conclusion have you come to?" he questioned, patting his lips and mustache with his napkin.

"I believe that our brain is always in on it...but we might not always be," Lizzy smiled, "Just think about it..._love_... it has to come from our brain...our heart can only control in metaphorically. Yet you have no control over who you love or when or how much you love them..."

Watson nodded, "Very true."

"But, maybe you could help me with the essay? You are a doctor afterall..."

"I would be delighted."

"But, what about my brother? Can we just leave him at this Fish Bowl for an extended period of time?"

Watson nodded, "He'll be fine, the old boy. He's probably unconcious from the strange concoctions that he comes up with..."

"That sounds just like him. But I started the paper on the typewriter upstairs, I hope that was alright."

Watson nodded, "That's just fine. It must've had dust on the keys for how often I have been able to use it lately."

"Shall we?"


	6. Pretense

"You wrote about love, Miss Watson?" Moriarty asked her in passing. Lizzy slowed down as she headed for the exit of the classroom. She smiled and nodded, "Yes...I thought it would be the greatest example for the subject at hand..."

The professor nodded with a small chuckle, "It just struck me as rather peculiar that a girl with a brother so logical would write about a subject so abstract as love..."

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't have a brother..." Lizzy responded, inching towards the door a bit, suddenly very disconcerted.

Moriarty gave a breathy laugh. He was almost insulted, "My dear... you both share such similar anatomical features and you've obviously never done the theater before, I'd assume. You're last name cannot be Watson, unless of course, you married the doctor?"

Lizzy shook her head, "Well my brother and I do not get on well- but his name is known all around London. I am sick of being in his shadow, so I lied. I am sorry if that was wrong of me..."

Moriarty nodded, "Of course. Enjoy your afternoon _Miss Watson_..."

When Lizzy left the classroom a shiver ran up her spine. She did not like this professor and she was going to drop her class immediately- even if it's not what Sherly wanted. When she pushed through the doors, exiting the university, she found a man dressed in mostly black casting a look in her direction. It did not sit well with her. Lizzy hurried on as fast as she could to 221b.

**221b (sometime later)**

"He knows."

"I knew we should've hired a professional..." Sherlock fidgeted with the violin bow in his hands.

"He's got something up his sleeve. I can still feel his gaze on me..." Lizzy shivered. After a pause she glanced around, "Where's Watson?"

"With Mary," Sherlock replied shortly.

"Oh..." Lizzy responded quietly. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced absently to the fire. She sat down on the stones and let the heat from the flames warm her skin. Sherlock interuppted her internal thoughts, "Lizzy, dear..."

Lizzy looked over to her brother. He set the violin bow aside. "I am paying Moriarty a visit tomorrow. I promise it'll be the end of it for you."

Lizzy nodded, "I'm okay, really Sherlock..." she sighed, "It's fun being a detective."

Sherlock smiled, "Thatta girl," he stood up and aburptly left the room without another word. Lizzy stood up sometime after that. She meandered into the foyer, contemplating just heading up to her room and getting a jumpstart on sleep. Her hand reached out as she passed the coatrack and her fingers danced along the fabrics. When her hands shifted one of Watson's long coats a small box fell from the inside pocket.

Picking up the velvet box she opened it to reveal a beautiful engagement ring. Lizzy's heart sunk. She quickly placed it back into the pocket and headed to her room, choking back tears. She did not know what she had expected. Of course the doctor was going to marry Mary but...she hadn't hoped to be around when it happened.

When she reached her room she packed a suitcase full of clothes. She needed a few days away, now. Quietly, she crept back down the stairs and out the front door. Walking down the sidewalk she realized she did not know where she was going or where she wanted to go.

"Need a ride, ma'am?"

Lizzy looked over. She nodded, "Please."

She handed her suitcase off to the driver but just as suddenly as the cart had pulled over, someone on the inside grabbed ahold of her, threw a hand over her mouth and dragged her inside the carriage. The carriage cantered off, away from Baker Street.

**221 b (sometime even later)**

"Must've been quite the night you had..." Sherlock commented as Watson entered the study. Sherlock slammed the book he was holding shut.

Watson seemed morose, "I broke it off with Mary..." he said. He did not seem regretful but he was rueful.

Sherlock did not do well to hide his satisfaction, "Why, may I ask, did you choose now? If I'm not mistaken you've already bought the ring..."

Watson nodded, "It was not right. I hope that Mary understands that it's for the best."

Sherlock nodded, "I'm sure she will. Third fiance's the charm..."

Watson gave Sherlock a look to tell him how tasteless his comment was but continued, "Where's your sister? Thought she was sticking around after her last class today."

"I heard the front door shut sometime after I came up to the study. She's just gone out on the town, bless her young heart..."

"On her own? It's quite late..." Watson said.

"Have you not met my beloved sister? She coud give the criminal breed of this city a run for their money..."

Watson nodded, but he had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	7. Smoke

**221b**

"He's got Lizzy..." Holmes barged into Watson's office where Watson seemed furtive. Watson's attention was attained immediately. "Holmes?" he stood up.

"Moriarty...he took her right off the street..."

"What makes you say that? Just because she has yet to return..." Watson attempted to diffuse the situation but Holmes cut him off.

"When I sensed that something was not right, I went outside to attempt to clear my head. I found this on the doorstep..." he dropped an envelope and note onto the desk. "We've got to go now, Watson. He's going to kill her..."

The envelope read: _To Mr. Sherlock Holmes._

Watson did not need telling twice.

**Unknown Location**

Lizzy awoke to a rather uncomfortable position. When she gained her wits she realized she was strapped down to (what seemed to be) a barber's chair. However, she was most definitely not in a barber's shop.

Struggling, she found out just how tight the binds were. She attempted to recall what the last thing she remembered doing... but her mind seemed to rebel at any thought that began to unfog.

"Ms. Holmes, so good of you to join us..."

She wasn't alone.

A man stepped out from the shadows on the other side of the room. She did not recoginize him. But somehow he knew her.

"Who are you?" she asked, rolling her wrists in an attempt to slip the binds.

"Don't worry about who I am...but Moriarty sends his apologies. He wanted to be here but he had tickets to Don Giovani tonight and he simply could not miss it..." the man was smiling, "But he wanted someone to be here when you woke..."

"What does Moriarty want with me?" Lizzy could hear her heart begin to race. The binds were not coming lpose as she had wanted them to.

"With you? Nothing, really... You're rather insignificant to tell you the truth; but the Professor knows that the great Sherlock Holmes is rubbing his nose into things he shouldn't be... and he needed to send a littl' message..." the man began to pull leather gloves onto his hands.

Great.

Lizzy began to struggle more obviously, "And he needs a defenseless woman to prove his point?"

"I believe he just wanted to get straight to the point," the man advanced towards her. Lizzy struggled harder but to no avail.

There was a fire burning in the corner that the man veered to, to her relief. He yanked down hard on a metal lever. The metal groaned as it shifted & suddenly the floo closed and smoke began to slowly waft back into the room, having no exit.

"Must be quite awful to die, knowing you were only a pawn..." the mysterious man then exited the dark room and she could hear the door lock behind him.

Looking around, panicked, Lizzy realized there was no where for the smoke to go... it would only be so long until she suffocated to death.


	8. Game

"Come, Watson! We must hurry!" Sherlock exclaimed but his words trailed off in the huff of energy he exerted to run the extra step.

Watson ran as fast as he could to keep up with Holmes but it was hard for him due to his leg. The letter that had been left on the doorstep of 221b had included some information that had given Sherlock his heading.

A long hallway beneath the Opera House came to an end at a doorway. Trying the handle once, Sherlock found it was locked. A moment later he was attempting to kick the door in.

"Holmes," Watson said. He was just as worried as his colleague but one of them need to think straight. Holmes looked back at him, and Watson motioned with his head.

A second later, Watson had kicked the door in. Holmes nodded at him.

But to their dismay- the had just broken into a broom cupboard.

Watson looked to Holmes, shocked. Holmes looked as though everything had fallen down around him. Watson raised a brow.

"I made a mistake," Holmes said. He turned around, his gears turning again- this time twice as fast. Watson followed him back down the hall.

"Holmes, what is going on?"

"I made a mistake..."

"Where is Lizzy?" Watson exclaimed, feeling disappointed in himself for not seeing it either.

"Across the street."

Watson did not believe he ever saw Sherlock run as fast as he did ever before in the years of knowing the other man. He had also never seen him make a mistake. His stomach churned in anticipation as they reached the building across the street.

"Where is she going to be?" Watson called after him.

But Holmes didn't answer. He just took the twists and corners at an amazing velocity. When they flew down a flight of stairs, they were met with an overhang of smoke.

Watson's eyes watered and he couched into his glove. They found the source as a door to their right, smoke sneaking out from underneath.

Sherlock began to attempt to break the door down. He began to grunt and whimper, making sounds that Watson never knew he could utter. Finally, with a little help from his friend, Sherlock was able to kick the door in.

They were immediately greeted by a billow of smoke that caused them to cough and hack their way in. They found Lizzy in the center of the room, motionless. Sherlock rushed to her side while Watson rushed to open the flue.

Frustrated, Sherlock exclaimed, "Damn! Damn! Damn! I can't get these locks!"

Watson rushed over and helped Sherlock undo the locks on Elizabeth. They two men rushed her out into the clear stairway.

If Watson wasn't mistaken, Sherlock had tears in his eyes. "Breathe! Breathe!" Sherlock attempted to resuscitate her. Watson found a folded note in the pocket of her dress. He pulled out the grimy piece of paper.

In perfectly scripted writing it read: _Your move._


	9. Sentiment

Watson paced back and forth in the hallway, waiting.

Finally, Clarky came rounding the corner and Watson came to a stop.

"Thank-you for coming, Clarky," Watson greeted glumly, watching the officer approach with his helmet in hand.

Clarky nodded, "Of course, sir," he replied. "LeStrade asked me to take statements," he explained, "But I understand the need to...hold off a little while longer," he said respectfully.

Watson acknowledged the small kindness that Clarky brought with him, "I apologize for having to call you out like this at this hour," he explained, "But I just cannot leave this wing," he motioned to the hall around him, "I need you to go find Holmes for me," Watson finished.

Clarky nodded, "Of course, sir. Where do you suppose I start, sir?" he placed his helmet back on his head and tightened the chin strap.

"Start at the Fishbowl. Be careful, he may be under the influence of opiates, you know how he gets," Watson attempted to be good natured and jovial. "He's going to be in the innermost corner of his mind...he thinks he has failed...and I just cannot leave him to himself."

Clarky nodded, "Aye, sir. Would you like me to bring him back here to you, sir?" Clarky stood ready to leave when the orders were clear.

"Could you, please? It will do him good," Watson responded, "& I shall need to be sure that he is physically fit before this case goes any further."

"And mentally, sir?" Clarky wondered aloud.

Watson even let out a small chuckle, "Best be off, Clarky," he nodded to the officer. Clarky gave a small bow of his head and headed down the hall and out of sight, off to find one Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Watson turned around and headed back into the hospital room, closing the door behind him. He headed to the bed and pulled up the sheet up tight over Elizabeth's still body. He let out a sad sigh and took a seat in the uncomfortable wooden chair at bedside. He glanced at the flickering oil lamp next to him, then to his hands in his lap. He had never experienced a case that led them down a path quite like this one: and he was not sure he liked it. He had never seen Sherlock in this state and it frightened him, though he could never admit it. He had a responsibility to the man no matter what happened. _Especially _when things could not look worse.

"Where's Sherlock?" Elizabeth stirred, attempted to lift up her head to get a good look around the room. Watson quickly slid to the edge of his seat and put his hand out to settle her, "You mustn't sit up," he told her. "The smoke inhalation has weakened your lungs...you shouldn't speak," he said gently.

Lizzy laid back and found that her breaths were short and laborious and lead to a coughing fit that had her coughing into Watson's handkerchief. When she had finished, the once white handkerchief was covered with black. "What happened?" she asked Watson as she laid back again, light headed.

Watson sighed, "Now is not the right time..." Watson patted her arm. She looked at him, in disbelief of the kindness that exuded from the good doctor. "Why isn't Sherlock here?" she whispered hoarsely. Her body wanted her to go to sleep and find relief but she only wanted to look at Watson's gracious visage.

"He's on his way. But you should get some rest. We need to see you up and about soon, don't we? Now that I know there is someone else Holmes can stand to be around, you cannot escape that easy," he smiled. He checked the bandage on her wrist to see if it needed to be changed.

Lizzy's other hand came over and rested a top of his, "Thank-you, Doctor," she said sincerely.

Watson paused, looking down at her hand atop of his. He knew that this was not the time nor the place to be informal but the warm feeling that washed over him said otherwise. There had not been any warm feelings since Sherlock had found the note on the doorstep of 221b three days previous.

"Of course," he said, a smile spreading across his lips. He slipped his hand out from under hers and reached for the glass of water. He handed it to her and helped her sit up enough to sip it. She coughed and sputtered but eventually was able to swallow it.

Lizzy felt completely embarrassed to be in this state in front of him but he was just too good to her. He did not even seem to notice. "I never got to congratulate you, doctor," she began, her voice rough, but she could not go silent yet.

Watson cocked his head to the side, "Why, might I ask, are congratulations in order?" he responded.

"You and Mary...you're going to propose...takes a great deal of courage," she smiled. She wanted to continue but a coughing fit interrupted. Watson helped her through it before continuing.

"Mary and I...we aren't together anymore. It was not what either of us needed," he explained awkwardly, setting her water back down next to the bed.

"Oh...I am sorry, truly, Doctor," she reached out and touched his face, unable to stop herself.

John reached up and reveled in the moment before he took her hand and placed it back onto the bed, "...John."

Lizzy smiled, for only a moment forgetting the pain she felt and the confusion of what was done to her, "Okay...John..."


End file.
